someone once called me a jackie of all trades. i thought it was a compliment until i began to overanalyze (a past-time of mine) the sentiment. in my life i’ve had opportunity to do many things. i’ve studied abroad, self published books, consulted with major industry and lead. there are a lot of things that…
Tag: Post-a-Day
just a dance with numbers
did you know the national right to life committee has an annual operating budget of more than 9 million dollars and naral pro choice america operates from a budget of nearly 12 million dollars each year? the united states of america department of justice has an office of violence against women. it funds 21 grant programs…
in his words…how my grandfather remembered his mother
my father‘s father was an orphan. his mother died when he was only 3 years old. he was raised by his uncle and his wife. he was born in 1919 and his life was unimaginable. he was schooled until the 3rd grade and then sent into the coal mines to work. he used to tell…
the word is survival
my mother is a survivor. she is an authentically amazing person. to have her claim you as her own is to be blessed and to never know what it is like to be completely alone in this world. she will feed you. she will clothe you. she will give you shelter and make sure you…
41 reasons why a 41 year old should not attempt the NaNoWriMo challenge
i don’t have any ideas worth writing about my life is a melodrama but i can’t find the word to really put it together my mother hates when i write about her i don’t have time enough now to write a blog every night what plot? i am a character don’t know if i have…
when a score simply isn’t enough
nearly a full score has passed and i am sitting here trying to imagine a poem that will capture this love now lost that still drives a fork through my heart like a mack truck rambling its way through the eye of a blunt needle where am i now you ask as though i would…
if glory wore a hat she would wear feathers
she was never flamboyant, instead grandma chose crowns made simply of white feathers, small rhinestones & royal blue felt she wore them hats with a dignity peculiar to southern black belles & northerners grown too prim to be touched soapy, her hands worked expertly to peel away white feathers, washing one at a time till…
chasing sleep like it stole something
my evening plans include eating a massive bowl of chili while sitting in front of the television watching ridiculously mind numbing sitcoms with no discernible plot while sipping a larger than life cup of un-spiked herbal tea i will not send read or answer a single email text or facebook message the phone is dead…
single mothers write poems too
sitting here in the space where no one needs me no one pulls at me no one is asking me for anything sitting here with quiet on an early evening i flirt with the possibility of retiring early down blanket pulled to my ears my head buried in a therapeutic pillow designed to keep my…
be warned there is blood in this poem (although i oppose the death sentence)
teensy tiny little bugs take flight and he is filled with fright he who would climb mountains just for the chance to leap runs screaming from moths flies and ladybugs yes ladybugs dancing through air he sees them everywhere flying diving sorting through air it doesn’t matter how small or big or nearly dead they…
fearfree living 